Back to the Beginning

This all started with hearing William Powers read from his book, Twelve by Twelve: A One Room Cabin Off the Grid and Beyond the American Dream. I'd just moved back to Knoxville to recover (hmmm, actually, I guess it was really more uncover) my life. I don't remember why I was drawn to go.  I've gone to very few book readings in my life since college. It was at a neat bookstore. The topic sounded cool. I've always loved small spaces. (As a child, I loved spending time in small spaces: the clothes hamper, the dog house, the shelf in Daddy's walk-in closet.) And I was already intrigued with the idea of living off the grid.

As I remember it, although he did read a little from the book, it was mostly a discussion, an inquiry into his essential question: What's your twelve by twelve? What are you doing, or what do you want to do, to live in a way that is more sustainable, given the limits of many of our resources, to exist in a way that is less antagonistic toward nature and more in harmony with her rhythms and gifts?

I found the question provocative and inspiring. What is my twelve by twelve?

Somehow, this led me to Beardsley Community Farm. I think he mentioned visiting there. I really don't remember. But within a few days of seeing him, I'd called the farm and scheduled a time to get a tour. I think it was late October or early November.

It was a warm day because I remember wearing shorts. I was greeted by the Farm Manager. She was very warm and welcoming. Her enthusiasm and love for the farm were infectious. By the time I left an hour or so later, I'd signed up to come back at the end of the week and volunteer. I had no idea that I was embarking on a life-changing adventure. I love that we never do.

Let me go back to part of the subtitle of Bill's book (that's what he goes by, Bill), "beyond the American dream," because it has relevance to my current direction in life, my recent divergence from my plan. How does one live beyond the American dream? What does that even mean?

So there I was, looking at houses, planning to buy one. That is part of the American dream, right? To own a home. I was going from home-to-home (many of them perfectly cute and seemingly what I was looking for), subdivison-to-subdivision, one planned, square plot of land after another. But rather than feeling excited about the possibilities, I was getting this increasingly boxed in feeling.

After seeing about 20 houses, I allowed myself to acknowledge: I have a dream, but this isn't it. This is not beyond the American dream, it is squarely (pun intended) in the middle of it, in the middle of The Box. My dream isn't to settle into The Box, but to create something outside of it, which is, by necessity, beyond the box.

Live inside my heart and outside the box. That is my twelve-by-twelve.

What's inside my heart? Farming. Homesteading. Animals (goats!). Music. Writing. Playing. Building. Collaboration. Teaching (but not inside the classroom box). Community.

This is my dream and it all began with a book reading.